Requiem for a Lost Angel
by talesfromablanketfort
Summary: The leviathan have claimed the Earth as their own, Castiel is in exile, and Dean refuses to give up fighting on his own. Starts after the events in 7x02.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Thanks to Lizaredlion for the idea! This will be a multi-chapter fic and hopefully I can get power long enough to finish writing this :p**

****DISCLAIMER** I do not own Supernatural, the characters, or the intellectual property of the writers and will not use them for capital gain.**

* * *

"We'll be back for you," the leviathan that had stolen Castiel's body promised. It was using Castiel's voice, but Dean couldn't make the connection between Castiel and the leviathan imposters. Castiel's betrayal of Dean's trust was still too fresh, too raw, for Dean to process.

Blood, both red and black, was dripping down the angel's filthy trench coat. Jimmy Novak's body swayed under the pressure of so many souls. The vessel stumbled out of the decrepit building, leaving a trail of blood and filth in its wake.

Dean stared incredulously at the space where Castiel had stood moments earlier. He was in total shock. It pained Dean to know that Castiel was trapped with those hungry monsters, but his first priority was to regroup and recover, if only for a moment. He had to pick himself up and carry on to save Castiel.

* * *

They chased the leviathans to a nearby lake, but the chase was useless. They were too late to stop the leviathan from submerging beneath the murky waters of the lake, creating a vortex to suck Castiel down with them. Dean watched, helpless to stop it, as Castiel's beautiful vessel, the one he'd come to dreaming about every night for months disappeared.

Dean was staring, dumbfounded, at the lake, watching for signs that Castiel was going to rise up in all his angelic glory. He wanted Castiel tell him it was going to be alright, that they could kill these mother fuckers, that this was all part of the plan. But he saw nothing, no bubbles, no trench coat, nothing but the swirling black promise that the leviathan were going to come and reign their hell on the Earth.

"Ok, so he's gone," Dean said, trying to figure out what the next step was. Castiel was gone. Who was going to help their band of stubborn humans now?

"Yup, rest in peace, if that's in the cards," Bobby sincerely grumbled.

"Dumb son of a bitch," Dean said, lip quivering, trying to hold back the tears. Why did Castiel have to resort to this? Why couldn't he have just left it alone? Couldn't he have just trusted that Dean would help him take care of it?

"Well, he was friends with us, wasn't he? Can't get much dumber than that. Come on, those things'll be coming up for air soon," Bobby was determined to move on and not be caught in the shitstorm that was going to follow.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby ran from where they had witnessed the angel disappear into the lake, sirens wailing in the background.

They had no plan, no guide to help them through this battle. So they did the only thing they really knew how to - they hit the road, running from the past, and killing every monster in a 500 mile radius and then some.

Dean's thoughts would often stray to Castiel, trying to make sense of his deceit, but it all was just too painful for Dean to process. He would try to push it down, but bubbling to the surface they always came.

Dean would take the Impala and go for miles once he thought Sam and Bobby were asleep. He would drive, Metallica blasting so loud it drowned out Castiel's voice. Sam noticed, of course. He knew Dean wasn't sleeping and the Impala was permanently out of gas, so it wasn't hard to put two and two together.

Sam was worried about Dean. He even tried talking to him about Cas once, but Dean's walls were too high for Sam to breach, his defences around his despair too solid for anyone to get to. It was tearing Dean up inside, but he wasn't going to let anyone fix it. Nobody but Cas could ever get under his skin, and now that he was gone, well, it was just too much to deal with. Dean closed the doors, closed himself off from everyone, buried himself in his work, and let no one get too close to him, lest they get killed too. He was a man with no purpose, no goal for life; the most dangerous position he'd ever been in.

* * *

Castiel woke on the banks of the lake. He was wet and filthy, but he was free. The leviathan let him go. Castiel didn't know why or how, but they were gone. He was so sure he was going to die, leave his precious Earth behind, abandon the family he had made for himself, all in the name of saving the Earth from the wrath of his brothers. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make - right up until it came time to leave Dean. In that last moment between him opening the gate and letting the leviathan in, he looked back into the eyes of the human he'd fallen in love with, and he heart squeezed so tightly, he could barely breathe. He wanted to go back like it was his only mission in life. He wanted to grip Dean tightly and let the world come crashing down around them, but they would survive together, just the two of them for eternity. If everything else perished, Castiel would not have given it a second thought. It only was for a second, though.

Now he'd been given a second chance, a fighting chance to save his family, and he wasn't thinking about the family he'd spent centuries with. He had to find Dean.

Jimmy's body had been damaged massively. Castiel was too weak to heal his vessel, so he lay on the banks of the lake in agony, his whole being on fire. He couldn't move; the waves of pain encompassing his grace were too much for him to bear. He couldn't control his vessel; he couldn't scream or cry out for help, for Dean. He couldn't climb up the banks to solid ground. Castiel was stuck in limbo, between life and death, waiting to fall off the razor sharp edge of existence on which he was treading.

* * *

Dean started going on suicide missions just to feel something. After Castiel... he hadn't felt anything other than numb solidarity.

He attacked anything that went bump in the night. A whole vampire nest burned to the ground before he was done decapitating everything in sight. Packs of werewolves went missing when the Impala rolled into town. And Dean stopped caring about what he was killing, only that he was destroying everything, seeking revenge on his cold world.

Sam and Dean got wind of the leviathan chasing their scent every now and again. They didn't even know how to begin fighting them, and the few encounters they'd had were less than pleasant. So they decided to hide. They had been running from the law enforcement since they were kids, so changing licence plates, ID's, and credit cards wasn't problematic. It kept them hidden, kept them safe, but it made them impossible for even Bobby to trace their whereabouts.

* * *

Some kids found Castiel, and after a little screaming and panic at the sight of a bloody body washed up on the banks of the body of water they drank out of, an ambulance was called. Castiel could hear the worried voices, the sirens, and he could see the flashing lights and uniformed EMT's lifting his body into the ambulance, but nothing seemed to register. Castiel couldn't recognize what was happening any more than a blind canary could tell where he was flying.

Castiel slipped in and out of consciousness . His doctors kept calling him John Doe, but whenever Castiel tried to tell them otherwise, he ended up either blowing out window panes or not being able to say anything at all. He decided that he should just stay silent after the second time he'd lost control. He had never lost control of his powers before; not when he was a child, never when he fought with the garrison, not even when he thought the Winchester's lives were at stake. This was new ground for him, and he was going at it alone. He couldn't rely on his family, the garrison had either abandoned him or been obliterated. God was missing, and Castiel was starting to wonder if He really existed at all. The Winchesters were nowhere around, at least from what Castiel gathered, and it only made sense that they would hit the road at their first opportunity if they thought he was dead.

Castiel stayed in the hospital for weeks. He had a very poor perception of time but the second he finally gathered enough strength to blip out of the hospital, he abandoned the care humans and flew to a safe house, his home.

Well, to call it a proper home was an overstatement. It was an overgrown patch of heaven, one very rarely visited by anyone other than Castiel and Gabriel. Gabriel had been there when their Father had created Heaven and knew the ins-and-outs of it entirety. So when Gabriel brought shiny, new Castiel to this corner of Heaven, he knew that this is where home was going to be for Castiel. This is where Gabriel taught Castiel to use his seraph blade, the best ways to piss Michael off, how to fly, things Castiel would forever see Gobriel as his mentor for. Now that Gabriel was, well, wherever the hell Gabriel was, it was Castiel's alone.

The holy golden light that filled the skies in Heaven filtered through the canopy that towered far above Castiel's head and landed on the violently green grassy floor. A few rocks and felled trees scattered the ground, and Castiel collapsed on top of an outcropping. They didn't feel like rocks, but more like lumpy pillows. They were great for stargazing, or earth-gazing, depending on what Gabriel felt like that day, but right then and there, they served as a place for the lost angel to sleep.

* * *

"Dean, you're scaring me," Dean had come limping back to the grimy motel 6 where the Winchesters had recently taken up residency covered in so much blood, Sam couldn't distinguish where it ended and where it began. "You need to stop this."

"Stop what Sam?" Dean was angry at his brother for being too protective of him, "Stop hunting? I thought that's what we did. We hunt things and save people, since when did we take time off?" Dean shrugged off his filthy leather jacket which was torn to shreds, "We don't, Sammy. End of story."

"Dean, I get it. You're mad that Cas-"

"This has nothing to do with Cas, he was a stupid bastard and got what was coming," Dean said, but his heart wasn't into it. He collapsed into a rickety plastic chair to take off his muddy boots, wincing as a no doubt broken foot made its exit from the confides of Dean's shoe.

"I think it does, Dean. You'd never do this if he was still around."

"Like hell I wouldn't. This is our duty, we start the apocalypse, we end it. We unleash a shitstorm from purgatory and it's our job to shove their sorry asses back where they belong."

"Yeah but look at yourself, fighting all your battles on your own isn't going to do much good if you've broken every goddamn bone in your body."

"Dude, I'm fine."

"Ok, stand up."

Dean valiantly fell over.

* * *

Castiel awoke to the sounds of the angels. He'd forgotten what music they could make. The voices of the choirs of heaven rang throughout the entirety of Heaven, touching the souls of every being that inhabited it's plains. Castiel had heard the music throughout most of his lifetime, and the music changed from the lethargic to strikingly fierce to violently rebellious as his lifetime drifted from one phase to the next. But then he met Dean, and suddenly, the music became something like a Vivaldi piece. Bouncing and happy to destructively wild to passionate and amorous and back again. And Castiel loved it.

But now, all he could hear was sadness oozing from the angel's voices. He was trapped in Heaven. He had no power to restore himself yet, he was in agony, he was alone, and worst of all, the man he'd rebelled against heaven, against his own family for, thought him to be dead. Castiel fretted that Dean had died in his absence - that the monsters he'd released onto the Earth had gone and killed Dean. That would be a cruel joke for God to play on Castiel.

Castiel forced himself to sleep. He hated that all he could do was sit there and wait, but wait he was going to have to do. It was his only move.

* * *

Dean had six fractures and two broken bones, along with a torn tendon and three knife wounds traversing his torso. The doctors at the ER in the municipal hospital in nowheresville Iowa looked mildly impressed that one man could sustain so much injury but still hit on the nurses with abandon.

Sam made him stay in the hospital for 2 days before he signed him out. Dean was jumping out of his skin and four casts to get out of the "antiseptic-reeking pisshole" Sam had committed him to.

They found a remote ranch house that looked like it might fall over if the wind blew too quickly and hadn't seen another soul in a very long time. Sam insisted they stay in while Dean was on the mend. Dean wasn't allowed to leave the house without Sam's permission, but it was not like he could go very far anyway. The crutches and boot severely hindered his ability to get to the fridge, much less outside.

Bobby had left to take care of his own business in Sioux Falls. He called every now and again, but the Winchesters were on their own for the time being. No plan, no idea how to kill the leviathan, no guide to tell them they're being morons. Square one had never felt more homely.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're alive!" Joy surged into Dean's face; his freckles brightening and smile lines deepening. He ran to Castiel and tried to embrace him, but a vast sea of grassy landscape separated them.

"Relatively speaking," Castiel replied, overjoyed to see Dean even if he couldn't touch him. It was painful to see the man he'd come to love and then betray so happy about seeing a ghost.

"Man, it's good to see you," Dean said honestly, staring into the vast blue oceans of Castiel's eyes as if he was standing right in front of Castiel. Suddenly, the space didn't seem so vast and lonely to either Castiel or Dean. They stayed like that, searching each other's eyes in a comfortable silence. Their wordless conversation seemed endless, neither man acknowledging the time or space surrounding them.

Castiel broke away from their staring contest first to keeled over. Blood came dripping from his mouth and seeping from his trench coat. Dean was confused, but confusion was wiped out by terror as he started to scream and his world started fading to black. The ground shifting from white to bloody red and the sky turned pitch black. It felt to Dean as if someone had tipped the world upside-down and he couldn't tell which way was up. He was swimming in a dark pool of Castiel's blood.

Dean became panicked. He tried to reach Castiel. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. He was fettered to the ground, though where the ground was was relative.

Dean stared, helplessly, as Castiel, his beautiful angel, was reduced to a bloody, twitching mess, curled up in a ball, screaming wordlessly.

Castiel had stopped moving, and then everything went black.

* * *

Dean awoke with a jolt. There he was, in a motel on the side of a highway in Montana which could quite possibly have been the most filthy place he'd ever stayed in. He was breathing heavily, creating swirling clouds in the frigid December air.

Sam lay asleep in the bed next to him, snoring lightly. He must have a cold Dean thought. Sam never snored.

It had been four months since Dean had last seen Castiel alive, and not a day went by where Dean didn't wish he was still there, fighting alongside them. It would make everything a lot easier, knowing someone gave a shit about them.

He'd stopped caring why Castiel had betrayed them. All he wanted was something to fill the gaping hole inside of him, someone with whom he could share the pain and horrors of his fucked up world.

It was cold and lonely behind those walls Dean built and that he let no one behind to see the monster he truly was. The monster that Hell had fucked with and made Dean wake up screaming. The monster that 20-odd years of hunting had created inside of him. There were some things you just can't un-know. There are fears that never go away. And those fears had destroyed the innocent boy that carried his brother out of a fire so many years ago.

He just wanted someone to understand it without fearing him like he feared himself.

Dean glanced at the glowing red clock on the bedside table. It was 1:38 in the morning. His head hit the pillow and Dean tried to orient himself. He was with Sam, on their first hunt together since Sam had insisted he take some time off. They caught wind of a vampire terrorizing a small town, and Sam had thought it was going to be a good idea to start with "an easy hunt". They would deal with the leviathan when they had had a little practice, seek vengeance when the time was right. Dean remembered parking the impala right outside their motel window. Her back right brake light was out, and Dean needed to get that fixed soon.

But his dream, Dean had never experienced one so vivid before. It wasn't like he wasn't used to nightmares like this, but seeing Castiel opened a door Dean wasn't sure he wanted to open ever again. Just feeling his presence so profoundly overwhelmed Dean, almost bringing him to tears. Seeing him again was like seeing home again for the first time after a long time away.

And then to see Cas die right in front of Dean's eyes was painful to say the least.

The moldy, water-stained ceiling was mostly memorized by Dean by the time he fell asleep again. He awoke in the morning with no recollection of the night's pain.

* * *

Castiel's head slammed back into the ground, stars appearing in his eyes and gashes starting to reappear in Jimmy's vessel. He lay there, in his corner of Heaven, bleeding yet again. Castiel had never attempted such long-distance telepathy before, and he was just realizing why it wasn't widely used.

Just seeing Dean again was worth it, though. Seeing those freckles that shone when he smiled, those glassy eyes that seemed to be a million colors at once, the permanently messy yet attractive hair, and the millions of other things that made Dean Dean, things Castiel loved about him, had made everything worth it.

Castiel groaned, attempting to sit up as his grace, and the grace in Heaven, poured into his wounds, closing them at a painfully slow rate. He could manage though, he always found a way.

It pained Castiel, this solidarity, more than any physical injury stressing his body ever created for him. He had grown used to the companionship of the Winchesters. Come to love them, in fact.

Castiel couldn't rest. He'd tried for days, but he couldn't stop thinking of everything that went bump in the night on earth. Everything that could hurt his Winchesters, his family. It was too much for Castiel. A gaping hole opened in his chest every time he thought if them, a chasm where he was swallowed in despair and misery.

He was built for war, but this war was one that he wanted no part of anymore. He was so old.

Castiel had betrayed them. He went against Dean's judgement and forewent his trust to take the easy road out. One that didn't have to involve archangels and God's wrath. No, he brought creatures from the darkest corners of the nightmarish world he lived in to wreak havoc on the Earth.

And the worst part was not that he made a deal with Crowley nor the fact the leviathan walked in daylight due to his carelessness. The worst part was that he had left the humans, the Winchesters, Dean, to their own devices to clean up his mess.

If only Gabriel was here. The archangel, always the pacifist, would have got him out of this.

Castiel tilted his head back. The swirling galaxies were one of God's greatest creations, in Castiel's opinion. They reminded Castiel just how small even angels were in God's great plan. What part of his plan was this though? Castiel had abandoned his family, both the one he'd had for centuries and the one he made for himself. They all hated him. He had no home anymore, no family.

And now he is stuck here, waiting for a redemption that would never come.

Castiel was so tired. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to die.

* * *

Black blood pooled at the bottom of the filthy sink basin. No matter how many times Sam scrubbed his hands, the stain of blood and the stench of death never seemed to leave the hunter. He looked up from his hands to the cracked and grime coated mirror to see if he'd missed any leviathan blood that had sprayed all over him when he gave yet another one the wood chipper treatment.

At least now he had an excuse to get rid of the tackiest flannel jacket known to man.

Being alone never suited Sam, he'd always at least had Dean to look after him, even from before he could remember. There Dean was, by his side. His constant companion. The Winchester brothers never left each other's sides.

It had been 2 years now. 2 years since they went on their "easy hunt". 2 years after the hunt turned into the biggest shitstorm Sam had ever seen. 2 years since he heard "Go get these sons of bitches, Sammy". 2 years since Dean had gotten his head ripped off by a leviathan. 2 years since Sam sat there, helplessly as his guiding light took his last breath right before his eyes, his blood spreading rivers across the concrete floor of some unnamed shipping yard and his body falling with a dull thud limp to the ground.

And Sam missed Dean ever single God forsaken day.

Bobby was gone, Cas hadn't been heard from for years, Dean had been taken out. Sam had no one to turn to. Hunting had lost its appeal, other than hunting down and taking out all the leviathan he could get his hands on. It was his form of retribution. For Dean.

He had thought about going back to school and attempting a normal life, but Sam was so tired. He had stopped trying long ago to make anything of his life. He was waiting to die.

* * *

Time passed differently in Heaven. Dean had no idea how he had gotten to heaven, much less how long he'd been there. Everything was a haze, like one too many drinks while trying to fly a plane. Disorienting and confusing, but not horrible.

Dean had not been worthy of being saved. After all the shit he'd done in his lifetime, no one should enjoy luxury after that. Hell had been, well, hell, but Dean had been anticipating an encore performance down in the pit.

There was something that Heaven did to you. It gave off... euphoria was the only word that came close to describing it. A blind faith that everything was alright. Like coming home to a steaming hot apple pie and having nothing to do for the rest of the day but eat and relax. Everything seemed to melt away. Dean never forgot Sam or Bobby or Cas, but they just didn't concern Dean anymore. He'd stopped worrying about his ginormous brother. He'd stopped worrying about his angel.

Dean enjoyed peace for the first time, and he got lost in it.

* * *

Sam had an apartment. It felt weird, having a home.

He rarely used the Impala anymore, rather used the bus that stopped outside his building to get to the office every day.

Sam had a desk job. That felt weird too.

He also was a vegetarian now. And he drank exactly two cups of coffee every morning. Two sugars, dash of cream, piping hot.

And he stopped wearing flannel, rather opting for a collared shirt and pleated pants.

He listened to jazz and classical music.

He kept a rigorous routine. If he deviated, Dean's memory would take over. He'd had a hard time working through that.

Nothing could remind him of his old life. He never talked about it, he never kept any memorabilia. His co-workers thought he was a little odd, but Sam could handle that.

When Sam came back to his apartment some Tuesday night, he grabbed the mail from his box, waved hello to Jerry the doorman, pushed "4" on the elevator and listened to the end of Bon Iver's "I Can't Make You Love Me" which Dean would have hated. When he got his out his keys to unlock his apartment, his only thoughts were about shoving something in his mouth and sleeping, not necessarily in that order.

He was so busy sorting his bills that he didn't see the (relatively) small body occupying the recliner in his living room. He'd been so busy ignoring disaster headlines, classic rock, and fried anything that when he came home after a long day dealing with irritating people, he didn't recognize the smirking ghost from his past lounging around as if he lived there. He was too busy worrying about what was still good to eat in the fridge that the "Hello Sammy-Boy" shocked Sam out of his dreamy state and kicked in the years of martial arts and combat training and grabbed the closest weapon.

"You're threatening me with a... flower vase?"

"You're dead. I saw you die."

"Kiddo, you'd have to try a lot harder than that to kill someone like me."

"Impossible."

"Hon, You ain't seen impossible yet."


	3. Chapter 3

"Gabriel," Sam's voice had a tone of wariness in it.

"Sammy!" Gabriel, the all-powerful archangel, looked like he was a 5 year old in a candy store the way his face lit up.

"The fuck are you doing here? And what the hell do you mean by impossible? How in the name of all things good and holy are you fucking _breathing_?"

"Seeing you. Do you need a dictionary? and using air. So how have you been? Looks like our little baby Sammy's grown into a little man! Awww and he has an adorable man-cave too! Do you watch sweaty men beat each other up on this monstrosity?" Gabriel said in one continuous breath, gesturing to the TV.

Sam looked a little flustered. Gabriel smirked. He enjoyed making people uncomfortable. Especially the Winchesters. They so were easy to mess with.

"Don't call me Sammy."

"Alrighty _Sammy,_" Gabriel had no intention of stopping.

"What do you want Gabriel?" Sam finally put down the vase he'd been wielding like a lightsaber, on his kitchen counter. The black marble counter and wooden floor were now soaking wet from the water that had sloshed out of the vase.

"You're full and undivided attention," Gabriel said dramatically, "to listen to to a tale of misery, woe, war, and family, starring two star-crossed lovers and one super-handsome archangel that has fabulous hair."

Sam sat down. He'd dealt with Gabriel enough times to know he wasn't going anywhere until Gabriel had finished his spiel, so he might as well get comfortable.

* * *

Castiel was standing on the edge of Heaven and Earth, eyes closed. His wings were outstretched and the waves of energy surging from the bridge connecting the two realms played with his feathers, ruffling them and sending chills down Castiel's spine. The winds and looped in and out of his permanently messy hair and haphazardly blew his trench coat around. Castiel finally felt free.

He took a deep breath. This was it. This is what he'd wanted to do for so long. He was going to leave Heaven. He was going to break out of this exile.

His eyes flew open and colors bombarded his vision as the line between Heaven and Earth blurred. He was on a cliff, a cascading bridge of indescribable fluidity, shimmering in the reflection of souls rising to heaven that flowed between the two worlds. A myriad of hues swirled in the air, and if Castiel was to reach out, he could probably grab one and feel the power of every soul in heaven singing, or crying, out. The air was crisp and filled Castiel's lungs with all his favorite smells of Earth; the impala, greasy hamburgers, ancient books, fresh morning snow, and _Dean_.

Castiel looked down at Earth, where the world was spinning unaware of his presence. A moment of peace swept over Castiel. How many times had he sat here, dreaming of the day he'd be allowed to see the humans up close? How many times had he fantasized about how they talked, dressed, ate, laughed, loved, and died? How many times had he wanted to be human? To be anything other than a soldier taking orders and feeling nothing other than dutifulness and _loneliness_? How excited had he been when he was allowed to leave heaven to see the humans, really see the humans, to interact with them on Earth so many thousands of years ago? How had he despaired when he found he couldn't do anything but watch them?

How he had rejoiced when he finally was allowed to talk to a human! How could had he fallen in love with this human? How could Dean make him feel an emotion angels weren't supposed to have?

Castiel could feel his grace leap in anticipation as his heart got stuck in his throat. Was this the right decision? Could he really repair all his damage? He was going to do his damnedest, but was that going to be enough? Would Dean even want him back?

All of Castiel's fears, all his reservations and hesitations, left his mind as he tipped over the edge, wings catching the air. He laughed, screaming something incoherent as he felt his body become weightless.

Finally, he was going home.

* * *

"I don't get it."

"Your thick-ass head not absorb anything the first time?" Gabriel was getting annoyed with Sam. He was doing this all out of the goodness of his heart and this assmonkey couldn't even think to thank him? Rude.

"What does Dean have to do with an angelic pissing match?" Sam said. _Other than that fact that he's dead and probably in Heaven right now_ was left unsaid.

"The pretty-boy angel and your scruffy writer friend is what."

"Cas and Chuck are both dead. Or are they all now magically alive too?"

"Give the boy a cookie, he's got two brain cells to rub together!" Gabriel rendered flashing lights as an incorporeal audience started clapping and laughing. Gabriel took a dramatic bow. Sam rolled his eyes.

"It's been four years since anyone's heard from Cas," Sam said as Gabriel's fantasy world dissipated, "Dean's been gone almost three years now, and Chuck dropped off the face of the earth before both of them left and now they have something to do with an angelic civil war?"

"Bingo."

"Your timing's awful."

"And why would that be, Sammy-boy?"

Sam grimaced, "I'm outta the business. I'm not going back."

"Oh hon, you don't have much of a choice," Gabriel motioned to his face and gave a little smirk, "Archangel, remember? Or did you get dropped on your head as a baby?"

Sam looked around his apartment. He'd hated living here. It smelled like a sewer most days and his neighbor had loud sex at least once a week. It was bare and minimalist because he couldn't think of anyway to decorate it. The heating was broken and when it wasn't an icebox it felt like the surface of the sun. But this was supposed to be his ticket to a semi-normal life and he'd _liked_ it.

What Gabriel was asking, to forfeit this apartment, his job, his routine, his new life that he'd worked so hard to build. But, in the end, Sam didn't _really_ mind. this was, at least, always going to be a temporary leave of absence from hunting, no matter how many times he'd tried to convince himself otherwise.

"What do we need to do?"

* * *

Dean was gasping for air. It felt like he was stuck under a waterfall, which in retrospect, probably wasn't too far from the truth.

He had been sitting in his corner of heaven. It was him, the impala, a cold beer, and a small rustic ranch house where the sounds of Led Zeppelin were drifting out of the open door. Dean was enjoying a beautiful sunset, a nice closing to another perfect day.

Dean really didn't mind that he did nothing other than watch old cowboy movies and listen to all the best that classic rock had to offer. He didn't mind that he didn't know how long he'd been there. Every moment passed so slowly, but looking back, all that time seemed to be instantaneous.

Castiel kept making his way into Dean's mind. Maybe it was because Dean was in Heaven, or maybe because he'd died at the hands of one of the monsters Castiel had released, but Castiel kept making his way into Dean's thoughts and dreams. They weren't always strictly chaste either.

It had been Castiel that he was thinking about when he suddenly wasn't in Heaven anymore, or at least the Heaven he knew. He was now standing near a translucent cliff, struggling to stand up as violent winds and pure _grace_ ripped the air from his lungs and pummeled his body from all sides. He couldn't breathe much less talk, or scream in terror.

Suddenly, it wasn't the slightly bitter beer or "Traveling Riverside Blues" that was occupying mind, nor was it Dean's well-being either. It was a figure, a figure Dean would recognize anywhere, wearing a trench coat with his wings outstretched and hair being tousled by the winds standing on the edge of the world.

Dean could hear Castiel screaming in elation, laughing in a way Dean never thought was possible. Castiel looked down, and then fell, dropping off the cliff like a stone, and Dean couldn't move, couldn't cry out in pure terror, couldn't do anything to stop Castiel.

Dean wanted to laugh, cry, yell, get violent, and curl up inside of himself all at once. Castiel had been alive all this time, and Dean had just lost him again.

"**Now it's your turn,**" a familiar voice rang inside of Dean's head. Dean frantically tried to look around, eyes wide in fear, to see who was there. But he was still paralyzed.

Dean tried to say something along the lines of _Who the fuck is this?_but try as he might, his voice had been torn out of his throat.

"**Don't worry, you'll be fine,**" the voice answered Dean's unspoken terror at the thought of falling from any substantial height, "**I am here to guide you**."

_Who is that? _Dean couldn't place the voice for the life of him, nor the persona of the speaker, only that his voice carried immeasurable power.

"**I am me. I am who am. I am life, and I am death. I am you, I am Castiel, I am Sam. I am Crowley and Bobby and your father. I am an idea and I am hope. But what is important is not who I am, but what I am here to do**."

_What do you want from me? Have you come to show me what I have lost? To remind me of how unworthy I am of life, of happiness? Because I don't need any help knowing I fucked up badly_.

The voice chuckled, but in that small laugh there was a hint of sadness. "**I am here to ask for your assistance. My children are going to war. It will destroy them, but they cannot see that**."

The voice paused, sighed, and Dean suddenly saw things, visions clouding his sight. Flashes of the future passed in front of his eyes. He saw Michael rising from the cage. He saw Lucifer, badly beaten but humbled, walking through the gates of Heaven, head held low in shame. He saw some angels fear Lucifer, some welcome him with open arms. He saw the angels taking sides and fighting over who was allowed in heaven. He saw souls become collateral damage as violence broke out in all corners of Heaven. He saw Sam and Gabriel trying to make peace, and both being lost in a struggle. He saw heaven destroyed, Michael weeping over Lucifer's body in a bloody field. He saw the Earth plunged into darkness and daemons rising out of Hell to reign on Earth. He saw God destroy the daemons, but it was all too late, the damage was done. Despair was the only thing left.

"**I cannot let this happen, Dean, but you alone can stop this war**."

_How the fuck am I supposed to do that?_

"**By jumping.**"

Dean suddenly found himself at the edge of the universe. He could see the entirety of Earth stretched out before him. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He realized why Castiel marveled at the Earth. It was because he could see this. Not just the landscape but the humanity of it all. The beauty that humans mark their home with. The purity of their souls, no matter the darkness of their pasts.

Dean discovered he could move again. He turned around to see if anyone was there watching him as he had watched Castiel, to see if the voice in his head had a body attached to it. Sure enough, a scrawny, bearded Chuck was standing there, looking a little sheepish, but smiling all the same.

"**You can go back now,**" Chuck said in a voice that seemed detached from his small body, "**You can see Sam and Castiel, but you have to choose it for yourself, and it will be with a heavy burden**." Chuck looked at Dean hopefully.

Dean found his voice, "Why me? Why is this my burden to bear? Why not someone who deserves to be in heaven, who deserves their family and-" Dean started choking back tears, "Someone who isn't me?"

Chucked searched Dean's eyes. He seemed so sad, but Dean couldn't understand why. "**Dean, you are the most wonderful creation. You sacrifice yourself without thinking twice about it. You love and you lose but you never give up. Dean, you deserve to be loved. You deserve more than love, but love is all I can give. I am sorry I let you down, Dean. I am sorry I have failed you and that I can't just make this all better for you.**"

Tears were dripping down Dean's face. It wasn't Chuck's words, but the emotion behind them that made Dean die a little inside. He could tangibly feel Chuck's honesty.

So Dean, without a plan or idea of what he was being asked to do, nodded at Chuck, turned around to face the Earth again. He spread his arms out like Castiel had his wings, and jumped.


End file.
